


french kissing down under

by saturniawaning (sayonaraearthling)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Mentions of Grooming, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Sex Toys, its like two sentences but still, killua is roughly 19 in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28850160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayonaraearthling/pseuds/saturniawaning
Summary: After a disagreement with Illumi, Killua decides to take matters into his own hands.Hisoka on the other hand, is nothing but an opportunist.
Relationships: Hisoka/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	french kissing down under

**Author's Note:**

> I got hyped up. If you know, you know. So here's a quick little thing
> 
> This was supposed to be 2k tops and then my hubris got a hold of it so here you go lmao.

The motorcycle engine hums with a roar in Killua’s ears as he rides on the dotted white line. Lights wash over his frame, rushing over at breakneck speed as he pushes ninety miles an hour in the dark of night. His wheels screech as he moves over, passing between two industrial trucks taking up both lanes. He pulls his wrist and throttles the gas and his muffler sings with a satisfying rattling tenor note.

His bike whips around a sharp curve on the bridge, biting winter wind whistling through his ears, sliding under his hefty hoodie and easing the sweltering heat running underneath his skin, appearing in the form of goosebumps. 

Killua’s without his helmet this time, having left in a rush. The thrums of white hot anger swim through his veins as Illumi’s annoyingly calm voice rang in his ears.

What they do is simple, if you’re from the underground that is. The Zoldyck family is a well known name, whispered through the mouths of the mafia, street gangs, info brokers, and hitmen. Killua’s family is the latter, skilled in killing with enough influence to stake their place within the four syndicate factions that control York New City from the shadows.

So basically they killed people. Easy, right?

Yet, Illumi had a knack for making even the most simple task incredibly daunting and tedious. More tedious than murder — actual murder should be.

For lack of a better sense, Illumi has been made the impromptu leader of the family until Silva and Zeno return from a three month long excursion they had outside the country. So, go figure it’s been the bane of his existence ever since. Illumi’s method of doing things is the exact opposite of him. Where Killua is playful and taunting, Illumi is precise and methodical. The only thing they have in common is their petchance for chaos but even that is just a Zoldyck staple. They have never seen eye to eye, Milluki doesn’t care enough to pick a side between the two of them so when it comes down to the wire, Killua is left to fend for himself against Illumi’s aggressive decisions.

Tonight though, burning through a pack of Treasurer London blacks wasn’t enough to calm his ire. It took him half a pack to realize this, snuffing out the cigarette with the heel of his boots before he’s pulling out his phone and dialing a number he knows all too well.

On the third ring, the line picks up. “Hisoka.” He doesn’t have to say much, their relationship is purely transaction — with the slight edge up on pissing Illumi off to top things off. Apparently the two were partners,  _ which could mean literally anything coming from them. _

There’s silence on the other line for a beat before he’s met with a haughty chuckle that he can’t help but roll his eyes to; “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hisoka’s voice is velvet smooth, goosebumps already dance on Killua’s sleeves from sheer anticipation. “It’s rather late to be calling, don’t you agree? As if I don’t have something better to do.”

Killua scoffs, “Please, you hardly ever do your job Hisoka.”

“Ah, you have a point. How is our dear Illumi then?”

“He’s fine.” He replies curtly, impatience starting to give way to his attitude. “He’s not the reason I called you.”

“Don’t kid yourself, he almost always is, and after that performance tonight in front of the rest of the syndicate, I don’t see why not.”

Killua pulls the phone away from his ear, making sure his line is muted before he groans long and hard to the point his voice cracks.  _ God! _ Hisoka could be annoying as hell when he wanted to be, it would make sense that an info-broker would have the ins and outs of the mafia but in just under an hour? Fuck him. Literally.

He holds the phone back up his ear, unmuted. Hisoka is chuckling though so he doubts he was as successful in covering how annoyed he is. “You’re with the Phantom Troupe, right? Tell me where the hideout is.” He’s vague in the way he demands, his phone isn’t wired but with Milluki around you could never be too sure.

“Prepare properly and I’ll consider it.” The line cuts off abruptly without giving Killua room to argue. If he wasn’t insatiably annoyed and horny he would’ve shown up without prepping just to make him work for it. Though he knows without a doubt Hisoka absolutely would not think about touching him if he didn’t obey. That’s just their dynamic — transactional. 

Which leads him back to his current predicament.

Locating where the Phantom Troupe (and by extension, their patron: Hisoka) decides to make their new hideout each month is no easy feat, and it doesn't help that someone like Hisoka is craftily elusive when he wants to be — as any info-broker should be; but it doesn’t make Killua’s life any more pleasant, so a nuisance it is.

Still they’ve been doing this dance for ages, and why change something that’s working?

By the time Killua pulls into the parking lot of the large bar on the edge of town just bordering on the industrial area. It’s surrounded by factories that have long since been emptied, judging by the shattered windows on the first floor. It’s already been two hours since he’s called Hisoka, impatience is the least of his problems.

He doesn’t need to wait long, the rusted metal slat of a door cries loudly through the night just as he’s taking out the bobby pins keeping his hood in place. Machi, (he thinks that’s her name is, with how often Hisoka talks about her) greets him with a gun trained to his temple, face impassive. Following suit, Killua appeases her and pulls his phone out his pocket before raising his hands.

“Oh it’s just you, Zoldyck.” She says, voice even.

“Yeah, I’m here to see Hisoka.”

She rolls her eyes and lowers her gun, having been through this charade more than enough. “Fine, whatever. Come in.”

Machi gives him a quick pat down, raising an eye in what might be disgust when she gets to his backside but ultimately doesn’t speak on it. She wordlessly leads him through narrow, neon painted hallways, giving way to an amber-lit room where half the troupe are drinking sans the leader Chrollo — not that he expected him to be there.

“Hisoka,” she addresses, “Zoldyck is here to see you.” calling out to the head of raspberry red hair curled over the bench of the booth. From there she parts from him, presumably retaking her spot back at the bar counter with a busty blonde. 

At the sound of his name being mentioned, he looks over, unhurried. Hisoka’s lips are cherry red, curled into something mischievous and downright predatory that makes him go weak in the knees. In his hand, decorated with rings and jewelry alike, sits his drink, golden in color and blending into the lights of the room to the point it could very well be just water. He highly doubts it though. 

Even from his position at the door Killua can admire the dips and curves of the low neckline of Hisoka’s outfit. He didn’t think he’d be so deprived to be lusting over his goddamn outfit of all things. Then again, Hisoka had always been good at matching him tooth for tooth, it’s one of the reasons he came to him time and time again. Hisoka isn’t boring, the man is far from it. While he dangles each and every interaction above his head, just waiting to crash it down on him, Killua can't stay away. 

_ Keep your cool, Zoldyck. _

Hisoka beacons him over with a simple smirk over his shoulder and a curl of his finger. The motion is so blatantly Hisoka that he can almost hear the whisper “Come,” trailing along his ears. And like a dog tied to it’s leash, Killua obeys.

He swipes Hisoka’s drink from his grasp, downing it without a flinch as whiskey burns down his throat and swells into a warm buzz through his body. He resists the urge to stick his tongue out.  _ Gross _ , this is why he liked cocktails more. 

Killua takes his sweet time sliding his seat next to Hisoka in the booth, hissing under his breath at the pressure pressing inside him.

A little too familiar, Hisoka drags his hand around his throat, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. He’s quick to jerk his head out his grip — yes he’s here for dick but he does have his dignity.

Hisoka rolls his eyes at the action, “Suddenly feeling shy?” he asks.

“No,” Killua chides, his tone haughty. “I’m just not in the mood for you to have your way.”

“‘My way’, huh? Do I need to remind you that you were the one to text me?”

“Yeah, I remember, so why are we still here?” He gestures to the open space of the bar.

Hisoka casts a look over at Phinks who is engrossed in a conversation with Feitan right across from them. Neither have ever given Hisoka a piece of mind, but things are different with Zoldyck by his side. It’s nice to have eye candy around sometimes. 

“You should’ve been more specific with your request then. Not that you ever are, anyways.” Hisoka hums and the frequency must be on a specific wavelength because Killua feels compelled to smack him. “You just said you wanted me, not  _ where _ .”

Killua seethes between grit teeth, “You’re such a bastard.”

“And yet you’re here regardless, so what’s it going to be?” He spreads his legs, a clear invitation for Killua to initiate.

So be it.

No one even spares them a passing glance when Killua slides down from the couch onto his knees. The tips of his sharpened nails dig into the meat of Hisoka's thighs on his way down, it’s not enough to damage the tacky lavender suit pants but the sharp sensation is enough to bring a smirk to both of their faces.

Pale fingers weave their way through white locks, appreciative and rewarding all the same. He’s quick to slap them away. Not now. He doesn’t want to be distracted. 

Leaning back on his haunches, he pulls his phone from his back pocket, handing it off to a downright greedy looking Hisoka when he opens it to the correct app- God he could really be a creep when he wants to be.

Hisoka waves his phone around, twisting it around and presenting the screen to him. Playful in the way he does it, he makes a show of tapping the “On” button before gliding over to the slider and almost instinctively, Killua braces himself for what’s to come. 

Giddy, Hisoka taps the vibrator to life, relishing in the way Killua, the little doll, shifts his hips ever so slightly. The motion goes straight down to his cock, stiff fabric straining against his hard on. He can’t help but cup the teens face in his hand. A tingling need to ruin his face, color his face like an abstract painting. Purple bruises and red hand marks to compliment that ivory face before he paints it all white —  _ Oh _ , what he would give to make it a reality.

“How cute,” he drawls, turning Killua’s face this way and that just to get on his nerves, he did give better blowjobs when he felt like he had something to prove.

He plays Killua like a finely tuned instrument — before he gets angry enough to think about swatting at him again, he pushes his face to his straining cock — the groan he let’s out is downright sinful.

“Shut up,” Killua hisses, hands moving to undo his zipper. 

Hisoka releases his face, coming back to the other’s hair — this time he’s met with no resistance, steely blue eyes stare back up at him with thinly veiled desire.

Killua continues, “I’m just saying if we get this other location, it’d be real easy to get this train running…” 

Right in his line of vision, on the other side of the hooked booth seating, he observes Phinks speaking. He lolls his head on the back of the booth and he meets eyes with the blonde who quickly evades his gaze with rosy cheeks. He’s trying so hard not to look that it’s become painfully obvious.

Hisoka is nothing short of an entertainer either, so why not treat them with a sight?

With a flick of his thumb, Hisoka sets a steady rhythm on the vibrator in Killua, bouncing the slider up and down but never enough to make the boy entirely needy — he didn’t want Killua to get sloppy just yet. 

The reaction is absolutely beautiful, Killua’s voice wavers between a hum and a whimper, hips rutting in the air, longing for some- any sensation.

Killua pulls away, annoyed that Hisoka could read him so thoroughly, “Fuck you.”

“You have better uses of your mouth than that.” The red head chides, “Hurry it up and I’ll give you what you want.” He bumps his doll with his knee, alluding.

Instead of retorting, Killua pulls Hisoka’s member out of his pants. He thumbs along the protruding vein leading up the side of his cock appreciatively, feeling particularly hungry when it twitches in his hands once he reaches the underside —  _ greedy _ .

He licks up a wet stripe up the expanse of his cock, relishing in the wet groan Hisoka lets out — the man never did feel any shame.

Hisoka tastes like something musky, it’s an odd taste, mixing with his cologne. It hangs heavy in the air, forcibly pushing past Killua’s senses, brewing into something akin to want — no, a need. As much as he loathes admitting it, he needs Hisoka. Even with his nonchalant disposition, he knows the other is the same as him, only Killua could make Hisoka want like this. Only Killua could take him this well. It’s oddly placed, but pride blooms in the root of his gut.

Somewhere behind him, he hears someone stumble over whatever they had been talking about and he has to fight back the urge to smirk. It’s enough to snap him out of his revere and gain some semblance of self-control back. 

He looks good like this, he knows — and if he knew any better he was sure whoever is watching them was sporting a boner. Killua was good at what he does after all. He rocks his hips and the vibrator in him shifts in him, pressing incessantly against his prostate. 

Catching the motion, Hisoka turns the vibrator to it’s highest setting and  _ god _ that’s good, it’s fucking good. He can’t help jerking his hips, rocking into the motion, mimicking the motions of being fucked — just to give their voyeurs a show.

Just like that the vibrator dies down to the lowest setting. His fingers (occupied with Hisoka’s balls) tingle with the lost sensation and he can’t resist the huff of breath he lets out against Hisoka’s cock.

“Fuck. Do that again-!” He starts to say, he’s broken off into a quaking gasp as he feels the vibrator inside of him hit its peak for a split second before it dies down again.

“Why?” Hisoka hums, “Because you enjoy them watching? Because you can’t come without a show? Or are you just that cock hungry? Won’t be satiated until you get a cock down your throat, is that it?”

Killua doesn’t deem it with an answer, but the way cerulean eyes widen, laced with arousal speaks volumes. Despite how demure he liked to act outside of these situations, the boy can be quite lewd whenever he falls into Hisoka’s hands.

Spurred on, Killua takes the shaft in his mouth, tongue curling around and wetting the bottom of his cock. His doll doesn’t gag, no Hisoka made sure to train that out of him a long time ago, back when he was younger and couldn’t take a dick without crying fat, wet tears.

The room is silent.

By now it’s a definite fact that whoever hasn’t caught wind of what's transpiring in the corner of the bar has already taken their leave, the only ones left couldn’t fool him. They were here for the show, to see how far surly little Killua, a Zoldyck prodigy, could be pushed until he breaks, which way to bend and twist him to carve him into their image.

He cuts that thought off as it trails across his mind. Possessively, he thrusts down Zoldyck’s throat and the way the wet warmth of the boy's throat constricts against his member is absolutely sinful. Nevermind the bright red lips, swollen over his cock.

Killua is  _ his _ toy, the prize he snuck from underneath Illumi’s nose, free to do with what he pleases. Hisoka  _ owns _ him.

His cock throbs heatedly and he uses the fingers in Killua’s hair to drag him down further — he’s near perfect, and doesn’t make a sound — not even when he’s pressed lower and lower until his nose is flush against tidy red curls.

The info-broker fucks into Killua’s throat mercilessly, his pace entirely unforgiving. There's drool running down the corner of his mouth, trailing down his jaw — it makes Hisoka want to wipe it away and coo. He keeps him prisoner in his grasp, one big hand holding him still as he has his way with him. 

The absolute control Hisoka wields over him was enough to drive him to his breaking point. A searing heat builds in cheeks in the form of a blush, it licks down his spine like a wildfire, settling in his gut with a cry for  _ more _ .

He pulls against Hisoka’s iron grip, cock popping out from his lips with a POP!

There’s no need to let him recover, Hisoka allows Killua to pull himself back and gasp for air, licking his lips all the while.

From his vantage point, he simply enjoys the show, watching Killua swallow a faint sob, tears blooming in the corners of his eyes from exertion. With a chuckle, Hisoka draws him back in like a moth to a flame. Defiant, he pulls back from the gesture but it’s all for naught. A glaring bald spot as a result of being a brat wouldn’t be a good look now would it? 

Killua takes the head of his cock back in his mouth, licking along the underside, he’s bold in the way he does it. Even if Hisoka wants to punish him for disobeying, he couldn’t find the means to. Perhaps the boy is working him over too well, he’d have to fix that at some point. Though for now, he enjoys the sensation for what it is. His chest rising rapidly with each breath he takes, staring down at the teen with a carnal desire.

He’s closer than he’d like to be.

Killua slides down the shaft from the base all the way to the tip — where he knows Hisoka is most sensitive, once he’s there he swirls his tongue around the head, it’s sloppy and wet but Killua has something to prove. The noises coming from his mouth are wet and downright obscene as he sucks Hisoka’s cock back down his throat, mouth bouncing along his shaft.

Mercilessly, Hisoka pulls him down and holds him onto his cock. He let’s him sputter in surprise before he gets his bearings, letting his throat open once more and Hisoka’s cock thrusts in without a hitch.

“Be a good boy for me.” Hisoka teases- no — commands, enjoying the way the boy twitches in response.

Killua does just that, warming Hisoka’s cock with just his throat to aid him. He swallows around him and is rewarded with an increase of pace from the vibrator. 

The little rocks he makes from the sensation are small, miniscule even, but the moan he lets out when his cock brushes up against the couch  _ just right _ is oh so perfect, it sends shivers down his spine.

Hisoka must feel it too, the broker isn’t known to lose his composure but something about the albino, submitting on his knees, readily taking his cock like he’s hungry, like he needs him, does something to him. His fingers are tugging on silver stands, tugging, insistent in his pursuit, watching as his cock is engulfed by full lips the shade of strawberries. Wordlessly, Killua understands, moaning as he glides up and down his shaft with an ease that could only be accomplished with experience.

Killua looks good like this. On his knees waiting for his greedy mouth to be filled.

_ One day, I should keep him like this. I wonder what Illumi would think about his precious little brother then…  _ He muses, enjoying his view.

The Zoldyck’s eyes are begging, pleading, breaking at the edges held together by whats left of his self control, what Hisoka has left to fuck out of him — but he will, come it’s time.

He’s feeling merciful today, and his doll is performing well, he can’t help but be charmed enough. Killua has surely earned the right to come. Unlocking his phone is quick work, swiping the vibrator up to its full strength is a sight to see. If the boy appeared needy before, he’s debauched now. 

“Good boy,” The leg he has wrapped around Zoldyck’s back abandons it’s post to slit it’s way between his thighs, pressing against the other’s cock. The moan Killua lets out is enough to stimulate his cock, sending sparks down his shaft. No one can really blame him for the way he bucks into the younger’s tight throat.

“I’m close,” His voice is somehow steady and rich in spite of being on the cusp of orgasm.

Tasting salty musk on the tip of his tongue, Killua dips his tongue against the slit and then before he knows it, Hisoka is audibly moaning, gasping out a raspy “Oh  _ yes!”  _ A full body shudder grasping him as he comes.

Bitter, scalding hot liquid fills Killua’s mouth, claiming each and every part of it as it floods inside him. For the first time, Killua coughs, swallowing it down. He pushes off of Hisoka’s crotch, attention shifted to the toy pressing firmly against his prostate with harsh vibrations.

The breath he lets out is punctuated in staggered huffs. Unconsciously, he finds himself bucking into Hisoka’s leg, a groan rattling from inside his ribcage. He’s helpless to the onslaught, desperately seeking his orgasm, vulnerable to Hisoka’s whims. Killua has done a good job -  _ I deserve to come, I’ve earned it.  _

“Oh” Killua says under his breath, voice broken and shivering when Hisoka’s leg brushes against his dick just right suddenly he’s closing his eyes, thrusting his hips as he comes again and again.

He presses his face into Hisoka’s lap, traces of aftershock littered in his veins shown by the twitching of his sore thighs.

“Open.” It’s a simple command, punctuated by a manicured finger pulling Killua’s jaw down. He sticks out his tongue, complying, and Hisoka shivers with glee at the sight of his own semen.

Again, the boy reminds him of a painting, not quite something sinful like  _ Dante’s Inferno _ . No, something more abstract, harder to spot in plain sight.  _ Leda and the Swan  _ is more like it, with his cheeks dusted with specs of crimson, the jaw of his alabaster skin littered with the marks of his nails. Killua painted a perfect replica.  _ Breathtaking.  _ He could use a touch more white, though.

And well, he has yet to give him an actual facial but it’s quite alright. They have all night after all.

**Author's Note:**

> COUGHS  
> 
> 
> My [twitter](https://twitter.com/sayonara_spacey).


End file.
